2020: Working titles for my memoir

2020: The year that felt like it shouldn't count but probably did more than any other.

2020: The year that felt like it'll be known as "the dark year" but will be more formative than almost anything else in our lives.

2020: The year we learned to love our kids more, live with a bit less, and re-watched the office in record time.

2020: When working from home no longer felt like a privilege.

2020: The year of the delivery driver.

2020: The year we had actual things to complain about.

2020: The year we realized the church is more than four walls, our neighbours are our community, and that going to Walmart actually can get more stressful.

2020: When Netflix became an essential services.

2020: WTF, Facebook: Volume 218.

2020: The year the world united against a common enemy. Kind of. Mostly.

2020: Does this mask make my eyes pop?

2020: The year we shopped local.

2020: The year we realized that grocery pick-up really was essential to our happiness, and got to live order to order, not knowing when we'd get the next one. We also cleaned out the entire contents of our freezers.

2020: It's only May. We're not even halfway there. Please, Lord, no more plagues.

2020: The year of cancelled plans.

2020: Grieving extroverts and emotionally confused introverts.

2020: The year droplets took down the entire beauty industry.

2020: My year of baking, re-purposing, gardening, and homesteading in the city.

2020: But what about the children? The dark years of education for the children of millennials.

2020: Define "alcoholism."

2020: The permanent demise of the button fly and rise of the elastic waistband.

I see you, 2017.

November and December got away from me, as time sometimes tend to do. All of 2017 kind of did. I blogged a grand total of 15 times last year. Compare that to 32 in 2016, 44 in 2015, 43 in 2014, 49 in 2013, 205 in 2012, and three times in 2011. I wasn't going to count back through my entire blogging "career" thus far, but it was kind of addictive so I couldn't help myself. In case you lost track, that makes this my 377th presently available post on this blog. Over the last six years there have been a post or two that have been deleted or archived for the greater good but, like some of my older stuff, they probably aren't worth remembering anyway.

If you're worried that this little retrospective is the prelude to my retirement, don't be. You're still here so you're clearly still invested (bless you). Dear friend, you can take comfort knowing that I have no intention of retiring Make Mine Decaf. I, too, am still here and I'm not going anywhere.

2017 proved to be a year of chaos. I'm not one to decide on a word for the year until after the fact (mostly because I really don't care) but at one point I thought my word of the year might be "sprinkles." I used a lot of sprinkles in the first half of the year and it brought me a lot of joy. Who can't find joy in rainbow sprinkles? Serial killers, that's who.

But, no, sprinkles didn't make the final cut. "Chaos" did, though.

I've never been big on New Year's resolutions. (Except for the one year in high school I didn't eat McDonald's for an entire year and beyond. For the record, it wasn't very hard.) I find January 1st to be an arbitrary date on the calendar that doesn't really mean much. Of course everyone plans on eating better but it's hard not to after the food marathon that is December (more on that later) but, other than that, nothing really changes.

I finished off 2016 with a bold statement: Bring it, 2017. Three days later I kind of started to regret that.

It didn't matter in the end, because Molly was born healthy and screaming but there was no denying that 2017 showed up and made a point that it wasn't just going to be an arbitrary date. (I sometimes think of last year as The Year of Molly, but that's kind of unfair to Parker so we won't pursue it any further.)

Spending an entire calendar year at home with two really little kids proved to be nothing short of chaotic. There's a lot more that can be said about that, but for now just believe me when I tell you that an 18.5 month age gap (I know, I can't let go of the .5. It feels important.) is straight up chaos. Looking back I'm not sure how I did it. At times it felt like an incredibly long year, but now it all seems like a big blur of sleep deprivation and decaffeinated coffee.

I had to let go of a lot of expectations in 2017. Molly, although incredibly sweet, is just not the easy baby that Parker was. We're a week away from her first birthday and I'm still really hoping we get her sleeping through the night by then. Forget next week's cake, that would be the best belated push present ever. I'm not holding my breath.

I've learned a lot about myself as a wife, mother, and person this year. If that sounds cliched it's because it is, but kids wreck you, guys, and I'm one good cry away from pouring my heart out in a deeply sincere Instagram post that ends with a #blessed.

On that note, I feel like I should appologize for treating my IG as a blog. And for just calling it my IG. I've been prioritizing my time lately and, it may not seem like it, but when I blog it takes about an hour to get a post out. This is partially because of the novellas I write, but also because when I'm only posting once a month I feel like my content needs to be a little more thought out than it was in 2012, the year of plenty. On Instagram it's so much faster, easier, and I don't need to consciously neglect my kids while doing it. I Instagram on my phone and blog on my laptop. It's easier to hold a phone over your head and out of your toddler's reach than a computer.

This past year has been hard in a lot of ways. There's been a lot of joy, but also struggles. The year didn't start off as planned and our new baby was more complicated than I'd expected. (Apparently it wasn't my superior parenting skills that made baby Parker so easy.)  There was also tragedy and heartache, parenting woes, and minor health issues.

I made a lot of new friends, found a new rhythm in our day to day lives, and kept two tiny people (never mind Karl and I) alive and well. If survival is how you determine success, then I'd say it was a good year. It wasn't a bad year, but I'm not sorry to see the back of 2017. Onward and upward to the future, where hopefully we all get to sleep through the night and Parker learns how to give foot rubs.

The coming year is likely going to be Chaos 2.0. There are big changes heading our way and with them comes a lot of stress. I anticipate that the next six months will give me a lot of grey hair and bigger eye wrinkles. (Seriously, when did I get old enough to wrinkle?) I'm really looking forward to the last half of 2018, though, because in my mind it involves a lot of sleeping.

So cheers to 2017 for the good and the bad and the babies. Thank you and goodbye. And cheers to 2018 for exciting new things, the terrifying unknown, and the year I blog more than I ever have in Molly's life.

The highs and lows of 2016.

I read something online the other day where someone said that they get together with their close friends at the end of the year and share their high and low points of the past 12 months. I thought that was brilliant. I've always loved going around the room and hearing everyone's high points of the year, but I like the idea of sharing the low moments, too. It's good to look back on where we've been in the year and see how far we've come or, maybe, still have to go.

I know a lot of people that have had big struggles in 2016 whether it's health, professional, or personal. Breakups and health scares and job drama have all been big players in the lives of many of our friends this past year.

Looking back, it seems like the high and low points of my year should be fairly straightforward. High point: getting pregnant again. Low point: losing my job. It's not all black and white, though.

Losing my job was hard. It really was. The funny thing is, before I knew that my job was gone, I was struggling with the prospect of returning to work. Having the choice to return to that hard job taken away from me was actually a blessing. It taught me something about my faith, and it reinforced for me that God's plan is so much bigger than ours. There is no part of me that wishes I still held that position, and I'm so grateful for the part time opportunity that was dropped right at my feet when I needed it the most. I applied for a dozen jobs and got only got one offer and it was the perfect offer. God was there, holding my hand the whole time.

I was searching for a different post today and came across one I wrote a few years ago on the cusp my 24th birthday. So many years later and it seems to echo so perfectly a lot of the same sentiments that I felt this year.

It's hard to put into words the high points of 2016. We spent a lot of time with my side of the family, and accidentally spurred a family reunion in Ontario when we visited. I hadn't seen my dad's siblings since I got married in 2010 and most of my cousins for almost 15 years. It was wonderful to discover that not only are were connected to these people through blood, but that I also really like them.

This was also the year that I ate some many vegan/dairy-free doughnuts that I almost got tired of them. 2015's word of the year was "baby" and 2016's is "doughnut." 2017's will probably be "thighs."

Getting pregnant again has, of course, been a huge highlight. Not that pregnancy is the most fun thing in the world, but I feel like I've been better at it this time around. I'm looking forward to welcoming our little girl in a month or so and have, for the most part, gotten over the nerves I initially had about it. Raising a boy and a girl is going to be a wild ride, I'm sure, but I'm ready. Bring on the headbands and frilly bums.

How do you round up your biggest moment of a year without feeling like you've left things out? Visiting friends, doing puzzles during Parker's naps, the anticipation of a new life in our home, sharing in the joy of friends' pregnancy announcements, months at home with Parker and now watching him grow into a little person with a fabulous personality, working on a women's ministry, discovering a dairy-free bakery, and finding a new hairdresser all made up the high points of 2016 (some more so than others). It's been a wild ride of a year, but was ultimately so good to us.

I know that 2017 is going to be its own beast. We'll be growing our family and I won't be the only one wearing dresses anymore. I'll likely be off work for the entire year. Towards the end of the year we'll (hopefully) start making gradual plans for moving back to Victoria. I'll read a lot of books, paint a lot of things, and knit through my ever growing yarn stash. I'll also drink a lot of decaf coffee to make up for lost time.

Bring it, 2017.

Currently.

craving: Chocolate. I went to the gym last night to walk like an old person on the treadmill. I normally go Friday nights and there's no one there, but apparently Mondays are for righting weekend wrongs and it was really busy. No one around me was running, either, it was just a bunch of walkers. Apparently I'm not the only person that enjoys walking on the treadmill before dinner. The thing is, the last couple times I've been to the gym to get my senior citizen on, I've really felt it afterwards. Last night I ended up on the couch with a heat bag on my back because apparently any exercise whatsoever is going to make me cramp these days. Holla at the almost third trimester. As a woman, I associate cramping with chocolate. Thus the craving. If going to the gym is going to send me into a chocolate eating spiral I should probably just give up on fitness. It seems counter productive.

watching: Call the Midwife season 4. I got it from the library but couldn't get through it all before I had to return it. Gone are the days of binge watching shows in a week. I contemplated bringing it to work to watch on my lunch break, but I cry during every single episode. I feel like I need to maintain some dignity.

wishing: That the American election would make the US dollar go down. I know I'm horrible, but even if it just does it for a day or two I'd be happy. I really want to order some yarn off KnitPicks and I can't afford to pay 25% more for the exchange rate. Remember when the Canadian dollar was higher than the American? Those were the days. I also want to buy my dad this mug. 

anticipating: Two things. I have a package waiting on my front porch at this very minute with the most amazing mug in it. I'm talking about the kind of mug I daydream about. I can't wait to drink coffee out of it in three months from now. (Why can't I have a sugar aversion instead of coffee? Life is hard when all you want to do is eat Mike and Ikes.) Also, I'm going on a husband-less babymoon tomorrow. I'll be in Victoria until Sunday night, snuggling my friend's brand new little guy, dancing in the rain, eating so much west coast food, and finishing up my Christmas shopping. Other highlights will include going to the bathroom alone and attempting to sleep past 7 a.m.

organizing: The baby's room. This is taking much longer than anticipated due to having another child to look after, but I'm getting really excited about it. I have a couple days off next week so I'm hoping to make some real progress. There are few things I enjoy more than organizing a space while listening to a good audio book.

cooking: There's a beef stew in my crock pot at the moment and I made shepherd's pie on Sunday. Last week I made lasagna soup and decided to try making French bread to go with it. French bread and I have an abysmal success rate, but I managed to make three delightfully edible loaves. We ate a lot of white bread last week, including French toast Sunday morning. I'm basically Martha Stewart. .

reading: I'm just about the start The Story of the Trapp Family Singers. I'm excited. I also finally joined Goodreads and I kind of love it.

planning: What I'm going to eat once I give birth. Sushi, chocolate cake, and coffee, for the record. 

drinking: Stash decaf chai spiced tea.

eating: Fig newtons. Like an old lady boss.

feeling: Like a whale, gumball, or sausage depending on what I'm wearing.

wondering: If WestJet will let me get away with a suitcase slightly larger than their allowable carry-on dimensions. Maybe if I cry. Also how much knitting I should bring for four days and two flights away.

feeling: Proud of myself for not eating the bag of Skittles in the cupboard I bought for my flights tomorrow night. Every time I get Parker a graham cracker I see them and I get twitchy. My name is Anna and I'm a sugar addict.

missing: This is Us. It won't be on tonight because of the election. Now that I've returned Call the Midwife to the library I have no excuse to cry in front of the television tonight. Hopefully. Thank God for Netflix.

Today doesn't count.

February 29th is that bonus day that I could totally do without. Because it only happens every four years I've determined that it's okay to just call it in and quit early today. And by that I mean television, another coffee, and an ice pack during naptime.

It's cold out. Like, wear-your-parka cold out. It was just-a-cardigan warm out on Friday. Quit playing games with my heart, weather man, and, while we're at it, don't promise a weekend of rain if you're just going to back out at the last minute.

Parker slept in over an hour this morning. Normally I'd be fist pumping and chest bumping and confetti throwing, but he had his nine month appointment today and it was supposed to be right after naptime. So it was right during naptime. And I had to leave the house early to get him to nap in the car for fifteen minutes and then he woke up screaming at the poor nurse at the doctor's office. The kid that normally does fine with the car power naps. The kid that normally loves the nurse at the doctor's office. That kid that I was actually excited to show off at the doctor's office because he's usually just so darling. The kid that's teething again and screamed at the banana I tried to feed him with before we left for our drive. The kid that is currently happy as a clam rolling around on the floor trying to eat his bucket seat. That kid.

Parker's official weight is just shy of 23 lbs. I'm wearing a wrist brace. His girth has broken me. My now borderline OCD kitchen cleaning tendencies are on the back burner because it's really hard to do the dishes while wearing a wrist brace. And emptying the dishwasher is still going to hurt. Let's not even talk about what it's like knitting right now. And I really just want to drink a gallon hot chocolate right now, but Parker's nine months old already and apparently the baby weight really won't just lose itself. But I might just have to keep putting that theory to the test.

The doctor told me that it sounds like Parker's allergic to strawberries and he shouldn't have them again until he's four. It's probably best to avoid kiwis, too, since the two allergies usually go hand in hand. I can't believe I brought a child into this cruel world.

I got a much anticipated haircut on Saturday. I showed her a picture of what I wanted wanted and told her I hated the weird top layer people keep giving me and am glad it's almost grown out. She then proceeded to cut my hair to the same length as the weird top layer and cut the weird top layer shorter. At least my bangs aren't in my eyes anymore. I tried taking a picture but I can't take selfies anymore with my sore wrist.

Parker is now eating my favourite purse. He'll probably get poisoned by the plastic and the strap with break beyond repair.

Bring on the coffee.

I can't keep quiet any longer.

This is hard. If you're at all socially aware, or at least on Facebook, you know something is going on in our world. It feels like everyone has their opinion and needs to throw it out there for the world to see and debate about on social media, knee-jerk reactions and all. I will not be a part of that, but I can't keep quiet about this any more. I only wish I were more eloquent with my words.

In 1939, Canada would not let the ship St. Louis bring Jewish refugees into the country. The over 900 passengers were trying to escape from Nazi Germany and we turned them away at the border. When faced with no other option but to go back to Europe they did, and nearly a third of them ended up dying in concentration camps. Fear stopped us from letting them into our country then and it's happening again now.

ISIS, like Hitler, is a formidable opponent, as what happened in Paris clearly attests to. Paris wasn't the first, though, and likely, heartbreakingly, won't be the last.

Enter fear. Of the four million people displaced by the civil war in Syria there are bound to be some bad apples. Those four million people need to go somewhere, though. Canada has offered to expedite the process of bringing 25,000 of them into the country in the coming months. The backlash against those refugees entering our country has been huge. The thing is, what happens to them if we don't let them in? Where do those people go? What do they do? What can they do? Going home is death. Truly. They left their comfortable lives out of necessity, fleeing for their lives. No, I'm not being dramatic. Turn them away from our borders and they will die, not all of them, but too many.

For those of us that call ourselves Christians, this burden is even bigger. We are called to love others as Christ loved us. I'm not making that up, it's in the Bible. Jesus loved us enough to put himself out there, risking his life and the lives of those he loved. If we really believe that God is on our side, why should we fear death? It will come eventually, and if we have to face it by being missional and showing God's love to 25,000 strangers in the process then I think we're doing our job. 

Of the four million Syrian refugees there are bound to be a few bad apples. There is no guarantee that one of those bad apples will try to sneak in with our bunch, though. Just because the process for weeding them out has been shortened, that doesn't mean it is ineffective. There is also no guarantee that we don't already have a few bad apples in our bunch already. 

If we claim to be pro-life, why does that only extend to unborn children? Why are our hearts not breaking for those losing it all? 

Giving in to fear is letting evil win. 

Lately.

We were supposed to get a gas fireplace installed in our basement today. After a disastrous basement renovation last year we take all sorts of home improvement events with a grain of salt.

With our basement reno everything ran a month behind schedule and we ended up with a bill 20% higher than anticipated. We argued and used our stern voices and negotiated a price that still frustrated us, left them at a loss, ended up with a basement with issues we can only laugh about, and were left with some smug satisfaction in finding out the contractor went out of business not six months later. But there is no more wood panelling, fluorescent lighting, or stucco on the inside walls, so it was better done than not.

Today's one-day fireplace extravaganza was only partially completed so they'll be back tomorrow. Maybe. Wednesday at the latest. It's nice to be off work so we don't have to stress about the time off. I was initially worried about the whole... power tools, drilling, hammering, banging and tiny human with a powerful need to nap once in a while. No need to worry, though, because said tiny human took a longer nap than usual over all the noise so I got to spend the afternoon reading like a civilized person.

And, bonus, there's nothing like the prospect of having strangers over to get you up and dressed with make-up on before 8 a.m. for the first time in months. I even wore my "Democracy: Your voice matters" shirt in honour of today. Parker wore his Team Canada shirt to cheer for the country today, too. I would have taken a picture of him, but he peed on himself and had to be changed by the time I had the sense to do it.

American? Confused? It's our federal election day here. We voted on the first day of advance voting so get to stay home and look disdainfully at all the campaigners that try to sway us with their pamphlets and promises today. I have to say, I am A) so glad my job requires me to be non-partisan and B) SO glad that after today people will stop with the mudslinging and door-knocking. I have no idea how Parker will react to the doorbell ringing if he's asleep.

I probably should have gotten out the Halloween candy for all the canvassers that came to the door. 'Tis the season, right?

We finished painting our dining room table this weekend. Of all the millions of things we've painted in the house this is by far my favourite. We were given our table by one of Karl's co-workers several years ago. It was in rough shape so we stained it in an attempt to make it beautiful. I'm pretty sure we made it look worse. I finally had enough this year and decided that it was time to fix the darn thing up.

Poor quality pictures aside, it's my favourite thing we've ever done and was well worth not having a table for two and a half weeks. We'll probably paint the chairs next year and they'll need to be recovered again eventually.

That marks the third thing we've redone since Parker was born. And also the last because winter is coming and it's time to turn our attention inwards to the actual walls of our house. Eventually.

While we were table-less for a couple weeks, we took to eating our dinners in the basement in front of the television. Because we're classy and sometimes need to pretend we don't care enough about each other to actually talk. During that time we really got into Happy Endings on Netflix. If you've never seen it, it's hilarious and I love it. You should go watch it immediately. But don't try watching it on Netflix because they took it down with no warning. We took Thursday off from it and BOOM, it was gone on Friday. We still had 22 episodes left. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth in our home. It's been a tough couple days.

We learned an important lesson, though, and that's to never take something for granted that's been on Netflix for years. If you find it and you like never stop watching it because, like my favourite burger place in Victoria, if you go away for six months when you come back you'll find it for lease and never again get to have that sweet sweet burger made from Cowichan Valley beef with a gourmet side of dairy-free onion rings a mere ten minute walk from your mother's house. And you will be sad. I loved you Cabin 12. And Happy Endings.

Lately. And I'm glad I'm not a baby giraffe.

I made the mistake of watching the highlight video from when Animal Planet aired a live giraffe birth. Don’t ask me why, I just did. That momma giraffe just walked around for five minutes with a baby giraffe hanging out of her backside. It looked like she was pooping. It was so disturbing that I could feel my baby recoiling in terror. Is that what happens in the maternity ward? People just waddle around with babies sticking halfway out of them until they drop six feet onto the floor?

I lost you, didn’t I? I might have lost myself for a moment there, too.

You know what confuses me? How politicians announce their intent to announce that they’re going to be running for a position. Why even bother? It’s like doing the same thing twice. That must be an American thing because I’ve never known a Canadian politician to do that. Then again, I don’t really pay that much attention to politics and Canadian politics don’t get the attention American ones do, even in Canada. Probably because people are busy just doing what they intend to do instead of announcing their intent to do so.

FYI, guys, I intend to think about what I’ll be making for dinner later today. I’m just not doing that right now because I’ve got other stuff to do.

I’m really excited to start a job where I’m not referred to as anyone’s assistant, even though that’s not in my job title and hasn’t been for years. If someone calls me my son’s assistant I will probably punch them in the teeth. I’ll be his caregiver. Sure, I’ll be assisting him to live, but, if anything, he’ll be my assistant. In being awesome. I have high hopes for the kid.

I’m not sure why people get so down on Barbie. I’m really starting to relate to her. We all know how unrealistic her body shape is and how she has to keep some of her internal organs in her legs because where on earth would they fit otherwise, right? Well, I think I’m starting to grow part of my baby in my thighs. Maybe that’s where my placenta is living, because holy cow talk about growth. I have to go on an emergency shopping trip to buy capris today because now that we’re out of snow season (one week and counting!) I need to get some fresh air on my legs. And none of my capris from last summer will go over my baby-filled thighs anymore. I know that baby rolls are so cute and everything, but I think that’s only for the first couple years. Anything later in life is just disturbing.

This morning one of my coworkers asked if I’d lost weight. I know. I love her. She then asked if maybe the baby had dropped or something and I didn’t tell her, but the answer is yes, probably, and straight into my thighs. Now go get me a cheeseburger.

According to the internet my baby weighs over 4 lbs now. I’m not sure how I feel about this.

The big questions these days are “Are you ready?” “Are you just so excited to meet him?” “Are you having a hard time waiting?” and the answer is I don’t know. Karl is so excited to meet the little guy, and I admit that I am, too, but there’s just SO MUCH that needs to happen first. I need to finish his blanket. I need to make more blankets. I need to decorate his room. I need to make him a mobile. I need to do more laundry. I need to make something with the dates in my fridge. I need to paint my toenails. I need to clean the toilets. I need to paint a stereo stand. I need to eat more vegetables. I need to go buy diapers. I need someone to definitively tell me if I need an electric breast pump or not. I need to go to our prenatal classes. I need to reorganize our kitchen. I need to have my car vacuumed. I need to get more sleep and exercise and probably drink more water while I’m at it. I need to spend as much quality with Karl while we still can so that we can remember why we love each other when the baby makes us forget.

Last week I bragged about how I was still sleeping like a champ. Don’t do that. You will be humbled. I’m still sleeping okay, but now I can’t get enough of it. All I want to do come 9 p.m. is crawl into bed and sleep a million years. It’s hard, though, because of all the things we need to do before the baby comes. I had two meltdowns two days in a row about it all. If I don’t have one tonight it will be a miracle. Who knew that laundry and unkempt rooms and furniture needing to be painted could be such a cause for distress?

I had a very successful trip to Michaels the other day. I didn’t even buy yarn. My son’s room is going to look like something straight out of a Michaels catalog (if such a thing exists). Let’s just say he’s going to be introduced to burlap and chalkboards and cork way earlier than I ever was. Actually, basically at the same time as me. But his polka dot education will start as soon as his little eyes can focus. Is anyone else tearing up thinking about this?

I still haven’t tried out my ice cream maker yet. I’m trying to come to terms with my thighs and the fact that I’ve basically given up on going to the gym for the next couple months. I tried to suspend my gym membership and it was the most freeing decision of my life. Then I found out I couldn’t and I have extreme guilt again. I hate wasting money, but now that it’s nice out I’d rather go for a super slow walk outside than on a treadmill.

 

Our anniversary is coming up in a couple of weeks so I’m thinking I might make some ice cream for it. And possibly a cake. Or, even better, pay someone to make us a cake. Because there are few things in life I love more than professionally made cakes. And, um, sharing them with my husband.

 

Okay, I'm going to go pretend I'm thinking about my intention to go do something else now.

Did you see it?

I spent a lot of today on the couch trying not to puke on myself (you're welcome) after a 10 a.m. migraine. Because my brain was all, "You're going on holidays in five days? You've got a bunch of work and work-related deadlines to get done before then? Dang, girl. SABOTAGE."

But whatever. Today was kind of low on my list of things I needed to get done. The goal was to go to the gym and burn all the calories because I'm going to die spending approximately 22 hours travelling this weekend. I don't have restless leg syndrome yet but we haven't even left. And I already spent six hours in the car this weekend. Because including this past weekend I have four weekends of travelling in a row and that's a lot of muffin and Skittle consumption.

But what I was trying to say was that even though there's a lot to get done this week before we head west for two weeks today's goals were only to go to the gym and make dinner. Migraine trumps exercise 100% of the time but I still ended up making stir fry for dinner. It was essential because no stir fry dinner means no stir fry lunch and I might just live for stir fry lunches. Also, stir fry is excellent post-migraine hangover food. Except I don't really have a hangover yet, I just feel yuck. And I was all, "If it's not a bad one I'll come back this afternoon because work to do." I'm funny. I spent a lot of the afternoon in a semi-vegetative state. 

But the point isn't that my body hates me. That's ooooold news. The point is, our cable company is accidentally giving us free movie channels even though I cancelled them. I don't even feel bad because we had a bunch of movies recorded from when we were paying for them (Game of Thrones is in the movie package but stop judging me because the books are less pornographic) but when we moved they ALL got erased. So this is kind of fairness. And when we add AMC in October to get our zombie fix we'll lose them anyway.

But that's not the point then, either. I mean, it kind of is, but what I really want to talk about is the fact that I spent a good chunk of the day watching movies. Two movies to be exact.

The first movie I watched was About Time. All I'm going to say about it is that you should probably go watch it. It was kind of like Love Actually meets The Time Travellers Wife but not as pukey. It even had Bill Nighy and Rachel McAdams so the comparison works even better. I might just be thinking Love Actually because it's British but whatever. That said, I think Karl would have really liked it, too, and you should probably go watch it now. And, yes, the red headed main character was a Weasley. I looked it up. 

But seriously, it might be my new favourite movie. I didn't even delete it off the PVR because Mom's coming for Thanksgiving and we'll probably need to watch it again then. Unless I buy it. Because I believe in buying things you like. Like Jars of Clay CDs. That's why I have a bunch of burned copies of their CDs from my friends when we were teenagers and consolidated our CD collections but then I went out and bought all their physical CDs. Except for their greatest hits, but those weren't new recordings and I bought the only new song off iTunes, okay? 

I digress.

I liked the movie so much that I paused it to have a nap. I didn't even do the normal sick day thing and sleep through it like I did with Dredd last time I had a migraine. For the record, Dredd was neither here nor there.

The second movie I watched was Anna Karenina. I got the audiobook from the library last year, but only half of it downloaded and once that part was done I figured it was boring me to death on the elliptical so I called it a day. I want to be cultured, though, and at least be able to talk about cultural things because of course I know the story of Anna Karenina. Then everyone will think I've read Tolstoy instead of just watching Keira Knightly in it. 

Well, after watching the movie, I'm pretty sure I didn't take much away from it. Except, SPOILER ALERT, Anna Karenina was a bit of a cold hard lady dog and killed herself, which I think I kind of knew anyway. But I remember in the book not despising her, whereas Keira Knightly just reminded me of Helena Bonham Carter in Harry Potter. Bellatrix, anyone?

I'm done with the Potter references, I swear. Although I was hoping to put Harry Potter on afterwards and nap through it but it's not on Netflix anymore. 

It was like they were trying to make classing Russian literature funny. And I didn't really get that from the book. It also looked like a play. I had a hard time following it. Except the red headed guy from About Time was also in it and he had a happy ending so that was nice. But I don't think he cared that Anna Karenina jumped in the middle of a moving train which, for the record, seemed a little risky to me. What if you just bounced off and got a bloody lip or something? That would be awkward. I'd throw myself in front of the train.

And now that we're on the topic of death and suicide, I'm just going to completely change direction. It'll read awkward and unnatural but it's exactly where my brain rolled to. So just roll with it.

Today was a bad news day. A life lost no matter how distant or far removed from us is still a tragedy. So love each other. Hug each other. Pray for each other.

One thing I really struggle with is not being a grumpy bag. I'm not sure why, but negativity  comes so naturally to me and sometimes I have to try really hard to remember to love others. Because I believe that God calls us to love each other no matter who we are, what we've done or, sometimes even harder to remember, what we're doing. From the petty to the big. And we just don't know, do we? We just don't know what kind of affect we're going to have on others. We can think we don't matter and that no one cares, but I think we can all agree that the tiniest interactions can have huge day altering consequences. Like the person who gives you the finger in the parking lot when you've done nothing wrong. Or getting a glib comment from a co-worker. I'm a feeler so I know I'm not the only one. We all need to feel loved and appreciated in everything we do.

And that goes both ways. Negative and positive. 

So go. Love others. Know that I really, truly appreciate you coming here. And watch About Time because it's awesome. 

2012 and then it's dead and gone forever.

We're a couple weeks into 2013 here, and I feel as though I have a little catching up to do. I could do a recap of how I spent 2012, but if you'd prefer, I did a recap of being 23 back in August. Since then nothing terribly exciting has happened. I mean, September did, but that wasn't very fun. At least the beginning wasn't. In the end Karl and I visited his brother and sister in law, which was enjoyable. Then my mom and I went to Washington to shop and rock.

After that it was all downhill. I guess. I started running (which, sadly, was not all downhill) and got a new job. My dream job, to be exact. Well, my dream organization. Someday I'll be the CEO, just wait. I also found out I'm going to be an aunt. As much as an only child can be an aunt on her side of the honourary family spectrum. Boo yeah.

So I guess "downhill" is a relative term. I think I always use it wrong anyway.

Well, there was one other exciting event, and that was my first blog giveaway. It was in honour of the one year(ish) anniversary of my blog. It took me a little longer than anticipated to get the scarf done, but I didn't let that bring me down too much because instead of shipping it, my one local entrant won. That meant I didn't need to ship it, technically giving me more time to even the playing field. Just roll with it.

And here it is!

Jessi, the triumphant victor, showing off her two newest accessories: baby Ethan and a killer Dirty Snow White scarf.

Yep, it's a fun thing to win a blog giveaway here at the now incorrectly named Watching Douglas Street. You know what's more fun that winning a giveaway, though? Hosting one. Chances are good that I'll do another one some time in the not too distant future. I might be trying to buy your love my now irregular posting schedule, but really I'm just trying to share the knitting love.You're welcome in advance.

I am not a drag queen.

So all last week I was looking forward to our party on Friday night. Mostly I was just looking forward to a chance to show off my awesome costume, something I'd been sitting on for a while. As I've mentioned before, I'm not an artistic or creative superstar. Far from it. In fact, dressing up has always been a really big challenge for me. Last year, though, I started thinking about the perfect costume for myself. Something funny, not too hard, and relevant.

I didn't have to think very long before I was struck with an idea. Barbie.

When I was three I was a huge Barbie fan. Huge. I was an only child so I spent a lot of time alone with my Barbies. I also used to go by the name of Anna Lee. Lee is my middle name, for the record, not a continuation of my first name. I think around the time I started going to school the Lee fell off, but it stuck around for years with the church crowd. Now I can't even remember the last time someone called me Anna Lee, except for the guy at the bank last month when he got my name off my Drivers' License. It was embarrassing for both of.

I was in Cubbies (you remember AWANA, don't you?)as an adorable three year old and requested that I no longer be called Anna Lee; I wanted to be known as Anna Barbie instead.

Fast-forward to four or five years ago. My Cubbies leader let slip to her daughter and some friends the little name nugget from my past, fondly remembering the time that Anna Lee wanted to be called Anna Barbie. All of a sudden there was an easy way to differentiate between myself and any other Anna's that were hanging about. Anna Barbie was back.

Naturally, a play on my nickname seemed like the best costume idea yet. It also seemed like the most entertaining, particularly since my eyebrows are quite dark and I've always said that if I was blonde I'd look like trailer trash.

Well, apparently I actually look a little like a drag queen as a blonde. Unfortunately, it took a little longer than I was hoping to get all Barbie'd up so I didn't get any good shots of me aside from this poor quality phone picture. Who knows, maybe some better ones will surface.

And in case you're wondering, here's the Barbie that most closely matched my ensemble:

Source

So. What do you think? Did I pull off the Barbie look or do you think I look a bit more like a drag queen? It's okay to be honest, this isn't my regular workday attire.

Bullying and hypocrisy.

One thing that's been in the news a lot lately is the story of what cyber bullying can lead to. I don't know if you've heard the story of the girl who was cyber bullied and then took her own life as a result, but it's been a big thing in the news around here. A hacker group decided they would do the vigilante thing and look up the creep that wrecked that girl's life and make his information and address public.

That, to me, is the biggest contradiction ever.

There's been some speculation as to whether the hackers finger pointed at the right person or not, and a lot of people are talking about doing some vigilante justice on the guy. They're calling him scum, saying he deserves terrible things to happen to him, and suggesting that the public can do more than the police ever could. It sounds like they're about ready to lynch the guy. Why? Because he bullied this poor girl until she couldn't take it anymore.

How is it that people so against the cyber bullying actions of this one creep (just assuming for a second that he is, in fact, who those hackers say he is, which is still up in the air) can turn around and do the exact same thing? I'm not defending the actions done by online child predators or stalkers or bullies one bit, it's deplorable, but I think people need to take a step back and look at the situation.

When I was a kid I was bullied and it was the worst. Thing. Ever. I also turned around and picked on one or two other kids because I needed some sort of defense mechanism. I know that's bad, but it's the truth. Bullying begets bullying and we do not live in an anarchic world. Thankfully.

We are not living in the state of nature. If you haven't read Hobbes that might not make any sense, but one thing my political science degree ingrained in me is that we really don't want to live in a man against man world. Anarchy is chaos. It blows my mind that people think they have the right to go out there and attack someone else because the law can't do anything.

Honestly, I was shocked that people would suggest doing the exact same thing to this guy that he did to the girl. You know what Gandhi said about an eye for eye making the world blind. Sure, the judicial system can make some pretty questionable calls at times, but we have to trust that they're doing the job that needs to get done. You know what? If you don't like it you should probably move somewhere else or suck it up because you can't win them all. And be honest, would you like to live in a world of vigilante justice where someone can punish you for your dog pooping on their lawn? Didn't think so.

So I think it's beyond hypocritical that hackers and regular people think they have the right to both judge and punish someone that was a bully, even one so terrible. The hackers should have gone to the police with their information, not the internet. I trust that the police can handle situations like this. That's their job.

And honestly? People that threaten or do worse to this guy are no better than he is.